Setting out for an evening of new choreography by emerging talents is reminiscent of a prospector searching for gold: his hope exceeds the likelihood. Last night produced two seams of gold, quite different from one another, but both remarkable, if not brilliant.
Rift by Simone Damberg Würtz was danced to a spoken text in Danish – by the choreographer. Paradoxically, this piece without music was one of the most musical, using the spoken word, silence and the internal rhythms of the dancers' movements. It was also impeccably performed by Daniel Davidson and Edit Domosziai. The light coloured tunics over white trousers brought to mind the iconic costume of Jean- Louis Barrault in the 1945 film 'Les enfants du Paradis'. Würtz's dance is said to be about rifts created by guilt in body, soul, time and place.
The two dancers were beautifully matched and produced complementary and integrated designs to strong visual effect. The timing had the precision of mime, and the isolation of movement comic connotations in the midst of pathos. The dancers performed both in silence and against the spoken word in a counterpoint, their long bodies able to epitomize grace and, a fall from grace. Amidst all this is a sophisticated and elegant choreographer.
The second seam of gold was Dane Hurst's O'dabo (which means 'until I return again' in Yoruba) inspired by Nelson Mandela (and his experience of solitary confinement) . Hurst himself dances the piece, a creation of huge emotional power and virtuoso technique. With his muscular, rounded body, he produced one of the most stunning openings to a dance sequence that I have ever seen. Like early man, he arose from the desert floor, shook the sand from his loins and discovered light. Throwing a blanket around his shoulders, he moved like a primordial flow out of his circle of light and into the world. I was reminded of the sculptures of Rodin with their density, their mass. As he moved from his upstage right diagonally to downstage left, he tracked a pattern of footsteps in the sand across the stage, which was a way of extending his existence and establishing man as a maker. At one point he stood facing us, his feet stomping rhythmically, his hands trembling: in fear? in expectation?. Dane Hurst is a marvelous dancer, and his leaps into freedom were unhesitating and high, but he will have to keep an eye on the integrity of the whole, never to sacrifice it to the moment. This is only potentially an issue because he is so gifted a technician, as well as choreographer.